


Imperfect Metaphor

by Diary



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bechdel Test Fail, Bisexual Grant Ward, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Crossover, Canon Disabled Character, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Families of Choice, Fluff, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gay John Garrett, Gay Male Character, Insecurity, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Love, Morally Ambiguous Character, POV Multiple, Pining, Romance, Scars, Self-Reflection, Sick Character, Sick John Garrett
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 17:43:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17166404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. “Got a thing for scars, third-degree burns, and cybernetic implants?" Complete.





	Imperfect Metaphor

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything in the MCU.

Walking into the base’s gym, Grant pauses. “I could come back later.”

Shooting another arrow at the apple sitting on Agent Romanov’s head, Agent Barton says, “Yeah, that’d be a good idea. Agent Romanov and I are having a disagreement.”

Rolling her eyes, Romanov says, “Before you leave, catch.”

Catching an old-fashioned disk, he goes over to the bleachers.

“When you have time, deliver that to Agent Garrett, and tell him I expect my fifteen dollars in dimes.”

“Nat-”

Romanov suddenly starts doing power jacks, and without missing a beat, Barton adjusts his bow, and an arrow splits the first arrow in two.

“Understood, ma’am. Agent Barton.”

Leaving, he locks the gym down against all non-agent personnel. There’s a roly-poly scientist who likes to read underneath the bleachers, and despite knowing Agent Barton would immediately make his weapon safe if a non-agent entered, this particular scientist would make a killer agent if non-detection was the only requirement.

…

“Agent Garrett is sleeping,” a nurse informs him. “You can go in. So far, today’s been a good one.”

“Thank you.” Writing on a post-it note, he wishes he could ask more.

What exactly makes today a good day? Is it just the fact John’s cheerful and not experiencing too much pain, or is there some actual improvement to the condition itself? If he brought in a burger or milkshake, could John keep it down? Tonight, could John sleep somewhere besides the containment room with it’s blue walls, special lighting, and constant air conditioning, all of which somewhat help stabilise his implants but, as a trade-off, gives him migraines and nausea?

Attaching the post-it note to the disk, he braces himself. _Go to the room, leave the disk, don’t think about things you can’t have._

He opens the door, and his brain more-or-less short-circuits.

Sitting on the bed, John has his shirt off.

“Turn around!”

The words cut through, and he does. “Sorry, sir. Agent Romanov sent me to deliver this.” He tosses it behind him, and unable to help it, he adds, “A nurse said you were sleeping.”

There’s a sigh, and then, a weary chuckle. “Huh. Tash will be lucky if she ever sees another dime again. It’s okay. You can turn back around.”

Despite his instincts telling him to run, he does.

John’s back in a turtle-neck.

“That bad, huh?” Coming over, John clasps a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, kid.”

“I’m not a kid. And you’ve done far worse than yell.”

“Speaking of worse, where is Romanov right now?”

He tries not to sigh. “John, you know me seeing you without a shirt isn’t going to change my opinion of you. It wouldn’t change the opinion of anyone who deserves to be here. And blaming her for something she couldn’t have been responsible for even if she were the type-” He trails off.

After a moment, John shrugs. “Yeah, fair enough. Which nurse? I don’t blame her or him, I just want to see about possibly adjusting the temperature some.”

…

Hating how childish he feels, he goes to his room.

Buddy happily ambles over.

“Hey.” Kneeling down, he pets him. “I have something important to take care of. Why don’t you go oversee science lab 3B?”

Wagging his tail, Buddy grabs his favourite tennis ball before trotting out.

Sending a message to lab 3B, he makes sure his door is securely locked.

Technically, there’s no regulations against this, but good agents-

John once said something about starvation making a thief or beggar out of the most moral and proud, and it’s an imperfect metaphor, he’ll acknowledge, but in some ways, he’s been starving since he was seventeen. He’s been fooling himself about being well-fed since he was twenty.

Now, he’s finally seen a glimpse of-

He makes it quick. He cleans up. He goes to see if the gym’s empty.

It is, and he begins exercising.

…

He knows it’s a shot in the dark, but he takes a tray of food to medical.

“Sorry, Agent Ward, but Agent Garrett isn’t up for company tonight,” the nurse from earlier says. “If you want, I can take that for you. He said you should go out tonight.”

If John can refrain from taking out frustrations and anger on this nurse, so can he.

“That’s okay. I’ll go to lab 3B. Hopefully, Buddy isn’t going to stand me up, too.”

Based on the sympathetic but unconcerned, fond smile, he must have kept his tone light enough.

…

A week later, John decides they can eat together.

Likely, eating is all that’ll be done before he’s sent off, but it’s progress. As annoying as this all is, he knows things will fade if he just rides it out.

“How’s my grandpup doing?”

Chuckling, he answers, “Good. Might be planning to overthrow Fury.”

“Well, I’d be remiss if I didn’t support him. You know, you should get him a juicy burger, medium-rare, covered in cheese.”

“He wouldn’t share it with you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I really do. Fury’s crime was not giving him the last donut.”

“He’s a good boy, got his head screwed on right. Priorities in order.”

Don’t ruin this, he thinks. Please, don’t ruin this.

Buddy is John’s grandpup, and he always feels warm when he hears someone call John ‘Grandpa’ in reference to Buddy.

He’s always hated John calling him ‘son’. He’s always had to restrain himself from correcting people who think he views John as a father-figure.

If John ever had kids, he’d be a good dad, and numerous missions have proven, when it comes to people who do certain things to kids, John cannot be trusted to bring them in alive unless his fellow agents have a tight leash on him.

John got him out at the right time. He wouldn’t have made it past seventeen, and he can never fully wish he’d been gotten out before the fire. If he’d been any younger, it wouldn’t matter how much he proved himself, the label of ‘child’ would have always been distantly attached to him in John’s mind.

More than this, most likely, John would have done what he did with Thomas: Escorted him to a good foster home, and let other people keep track of him and their parents.

“Tell me about your mission next Sunday.”

Relaxing, he does.

...

In the convoy, the asset puts her head between her knees. “I can’t do this. I’d rather be in a cell.”

The driver glances at him, and he shakes his head.

Coming over, he sits down. “Don’t take this as me making a move on you. I’m going to put my hand on your back. If you tell me to move it, I will.”

Settling his hand, he says, “Now, breathe.”

She takes several deep breaths.

“Remember when Agent Hill brought you in?”

“It’s not the sort of thing I’d forget on my own.”

“We’re not going to take away any of your memories,” he yet again assures her. “Agent Hill took a bullet keeping you safe. If I need to, I will, too.”

“You locked me in a cell. Which I’d like to go back to.”

“You deliberately blew up three buildings.”

“They were empty.”

“We made them empty.”

She shudders. “Yeah, that wasn’t the finest point in my life. I get it: There are better ways to incite social change.”

He makes small circles. “Agent Garrett went against protocol when I was seventeen. I’m not going to go against protocol here. If you really think going back to your cell is the best thing for you, the driver will turn around, and I’ll radio in. But first, I’m going to do one of the same things he did and be bluntly honest.”

“Okay,” she agrees.

“If it were up to me, you’d stay in that cell until you died. I’ve never agreed with Coulson’s belief in trying so hard to see the innate goodness in people. It’s not up to me, though, and this is one thing I don’t need to agree on to be a good agent. Trust and agreement don’t always go together.”

“I plan on getting us both back intact. If you do what you’re supposed to, this should be easy for me to do. However, if things do go wrong, if I have to die to keep you safe, I will, because, Coulson sees you as someone who deserves SHIELD’s protection.”

“I don’t want anyone to die.”

“It’s not likely to happen. This is me still being honest.”

“Okay.”

He pats her back.

Taking another breath, she raises her head, and he moves his hand. “Don’t you ever get scared? How are you and the other agents so calm?”

“Most people get scared. We’re well-trained to not let the fear get to us.”

“Give me something that might help. Some advice, a saying, something.”

He considers it. “You might be free soon. Coulson’s pushing for that. But even with him, you have to earn it. Focus on that.”

Despite meaning to leave it there, he finds himself adding, “For me, it’s my dog and the people who’ve proven to be more my family than most of my biological ones ever were. I think about them, and having someone to come back to, that makes me fight all the harder to make sure I do come back.”

Looking at him fully, she nods. “Thank you, Agent Ward,” she quietly says.

…

The mission goes well, and when they get back, he comments, “Looks like we have a welcoming party.”

However, his good humour vanishes when she’s immediately dragged in without a word by some of the agents. One look at Coulson’s stance has him fighting down his own nausea.

_No._

“Agent Ward, I’m sorry-”

“Is Agent Garrett dead?”

“No,” Coulson answers, and some relief floods him at seeing the truth in the other man’s eyes. “But he’s in bad shape. They’ve had to put him in a medically-induced coma.”

“Sir. I’m up for my debriefing.”

Coulson doesn’t look convinced, but his phone buzzes, and looking at it, he sighs. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“This way, agent.”

…

Coulson escorts him to medical. “I know, objectively, you’ve seen worse, but, Grant- you’ve never seen him this bad. Prepare yourself, okay?”

He nods. “Is Buddy okay? My dog.”

“Yes. He’s fine. I imagine you already knew this, but he’s something of a hero. He alerted the medical staff when John started seizing.”

“However, he couldn’t stay here, and Dr Leland, one of the scientists from Lab 3B, thought it’d be best for her to take him for right now. She’s made room in her quarters. He’s anxious, but they’ve been watching Pokemon DVDs.”

“Good. Buddy loves Pokemon.”

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, he finds himself looking down at John.

Seeing the nurse is standing nearby, he asks, “What exactly is going on with him?”

…

Once everyone is gone, he slides down onto the floor, and leaning against the wall, he looks at the rise and fall of John’s chest.

Counting every breath, he lets all feelings and other thoughts float out of him.

…

“And that’s why-”

He opens his eyes.

“Grant? I’ll call you back.”

“Sir.” He looks up to see Coulson hanging up a cell phone. “Am I needed for something?”

Sighing, Coulson kneels down. “No. How long have you been here, Grant?”

He looks at his watch. “Six hours and thirty-nine minutes, sir.”

“Agent Ward, you can’t sleep in here.”

“With all due respect, sir, I have been. I’m not sick. I can’t make him worse.”

“That’s not what I meant. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Agent Coulson, I’m fine.”

Somehow, he ends up sitting on a cot with a tray in his lap.

“Sir,” the nurse’s voice is almost too quiet to hear, “what should we do if Agent Garrett dies while he’s here?”

He’s careful to control any reaction his body might have, and after a few seconds, Agent Coulson answers, “If he’s relatively calm, send for his dog. If he gives signs of being a threat to himself or others, have him sedated.”

…

When he wakes up again he knows he can’t keep doing this. He’s gone months without seeing or even hearing John before. He’s been far away when John went into life-or-death missions. It’s always hurt, but he knows he has to start doing what he’s always done and working around the hurt.

John himself would make this clear if he could.

Walking over, he carefully sets his hand over John’s heart. “I’ll see about getting Buddy on the visitor’s list.”

Then, taking a deep breath, he leaves.

…

He’s overseeing target practise at the range when Buddy paws at him.

Looking over, he sees Buddy is barking, and making eye contact, Buddy turns his head.

Seeing Coulson, he sighs.

They go over, and he waits until they’re out of the range with the doors closed to take off Buddy’s specialised ear defenders.

Obeying Buddy’s whine for ear scratches, Coulson says, “Good news, Agent Ward. We believe we can bring Agent Garrett out of his coma. Furthermore, two of our scientists from the academy might have developed something to stabilise him. Organ regeneration still isn’t possible, but if this works, it should get him out of the red zone for the time being.”

“Are they coming here, sir?”

“No, but we’ve just received a vial they shipped, and they’re going to do a video-chat with John’s doctors.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” he says. “Come on, Buddy. Hopefully, your grandpa is going to be able to talk to you soon.”

Wagging his tail, Buddy looks up with hopeful eyes.

…

“How long was I out,” are John’s first words.

Coulson answers, and then, John’s launching into one of his exaggerated stories about one of his missions.

Noticing how starry-eyed one of the scientists on the other side of the video is, he restrains himself from laughing and laying out to them: Agent Garrett is a hero, he has literally saved the world before, and you cannot believe more than half the stories he sprouts about various missions.

“I’m feeling better than I have in a long time. How long until I can walk around outside the bay?”

Barking, Buddy comes over with a leash in his mouth.

“How- that’s not your leash.” He kneels down.

“Actually, uh, it kind of is now,” Coulson says. “When you were on your last mission, Dr Leland couldn’t find his leash, and she got him a new one. He took to giving it to Nurse Wallen to hang up in the doctor and nurse’s lounge. Apparently, he’s learned to get it down.”

Scratching Buddy’s ears, John attaches the leash to the harness. “Good boy.” He looks up. “Come on, a ten minute walk outside would do me good.”

“It should be fine,” one of the nurses says. “I’ll attach a monitoring system to you.”

She velcros a band around John’s arm.

“Good, but just to be extra-safe, Agent Ward, you’re with John here.”

…

John’s a little unsteady on his feet, but as long as they go slow, he can walk without needing to hold onto anything.

“First thing you’re going to do, as soon as you can, is get me a decent burger. None of that fast-food, overly-processed, made up of meat by-products crap. One from a proper, home-style cooking diner containing real cow meat. And then, you’re going to get a gallon of full-fat milk, a tub of Blarney’s vanilla ice-cream, some strawberries, and some dark chocolate. I don’t care what kind or from where as long as it’s dark. Even those diners nowadays, they use sweeteners and machines filled with pre-mixed or whatever it’s called stuff. I may not be great at making milkshakes, but at least, mine’s done proper.”

“I promise, as soon as you’re cleared, I’ll get you a burger and see about getting you a good, proper milkshake.”

Sighing, John goes over to a bench. “Good. Let’s sit for a minute.”

They do.

“I don’t know much about abused kids. I got in trouble, I got my dad’s belt. My mother was a good woman. Nagged me half to death at times, but once I was grown, I liked them. It hurt when they passed.”

He already doesn’t like where this conversation is going.

“Look, Grant, I know you aren’t a kid. Hell, I watched as you became a man. A good one. And maybe I could have done more, done something different, but God knows I tried to make you independent of me.”

Keeping his voice mild, he responds, “I am independent of you.”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much true. Except, every time I needed or even just wanted you, there you were. And now- we both need to face the fact I could die soon. You, though, you’re still young, you could do anything, go anywhere you wanted in SHIELD. I don’t want you to end up my age, looking back and thinking, ‘What the hell did I do, wasting all that time?’”

Kicking at rocks, he watches Buddy yawning in the sunlight.

If John wants him to be bitter and regretful over what he’s been denied in the process of keeping John happy, he could comply.

He truly would regret that.

It’s not John’s fault, it’s not something John ever intended, he’ll acknowledge, but when it comes to John’s craving for a decent burger and milkshake, there are a number of people John could turn to, to get them for him. Who delivers won’t have much, if any, impact on John’s cravings being satisfied.

In his case, John’s the only one who can keep him from metaphorically starving.

“Before you die, I want a steak dinner. If I bring you your burger and milkshake, that’s only fair once you’re cleared to go out.”

John laughs. “Your definition of fair is interesting and debatable, but luckily, I’ve always liked debating.” He stands up. “Let’s get a little more walking in before I go back.”

…

A week after the vial is administered, Coulson says, “Fury has cleared you for _desk duty_ , John. To be clear, you will do work from a desk. I know you’re going to fight against this, but there will be no field missions, there will be no sparring, there will be no ride-alongs. You stay at your desk, or you take retirement.”

“I can still help out at the range.”

Coulson rubs his temples. “To a limited extent, maybe.” He turns. “Ward, do not-”

“Sir, I won’t encourage or help him. In fact, if I have to zip-tie and haul him back, I will.”

“You could try,” John scoffs.

“Yes, sir, and I’d win if I did.” He smiles.

Laughing, John shakes his head. “Alright, I’ve got it. Desk duty. Burgers and ice-cream limited to one meal a week. Easy on the beer. There’s no need to put limits on coffee; I haven’t had more than the rare odd cup in years.”

“Good. You start tomorrow morning,” Coulson says.

“Got it. For now, though, I have some private questions I want to ask the doc here. Out.”

“Sir.” He goes to the door.

Smiling slightly, Coulson squeezes John’s shoulder. “Glad you’re doing better.”

They leave.

…

“Buddy with that Pokemon scientist for the night?”

“Yes, sir.”

They get to John’s quarters.

“Want to come in?”

“Sounds good.”

Inside, the door isn’t even fully closed before John’s pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“If you end up back in medical tonight, I have no knowledge of how these burgers got in here,” he warns.

“I’m sure they’ll have no trouble buying that.” Sitting down, John asks, “Milkshake?”

He follows suit. “Let’s see how you handle this first.”

“You heard anything from Thomas lately?”

“Yeah, he’s doing good. I think he’s planning on proposing to Annie soon.”

“She that hippie girl, or am I thinking of the bunhead accountant?”

“That was Lena. She went to China for some humanitarian mission with her church.”

“Remember that time you had to bail me and my team out when that little college kid in Turkey almost ruined our op?”

He manages not to shudder at the memory. “Happy to help you out, but I’m never doing that again.”

John catches his eyes. “Thanks for not listening to me, Grant.”

“What I got out of your gratitude made it worth it.”

“You’re just lucky Fury took your side. I maintain he does it out of spite. He never would have taken May’s side on that Bowie mission if...”

…

When they finish, he begins helping clean up.

“Excited to finally be able to sleep in your own bed again?”

John’s touch has him setting the dishes down, and when they kiss, everything in him finally settles.

When the kiss breaks and John runs a thumb across his cheek, he closes his eyes.

It’s almost comparable to being cooped in a building with recycled air, and then, being thrust outside to clear, cool fresh air.

“Be better with some company,” John answers.

Oh, thank God, he thinks.

“I’d make a sarcastic quip about my social calender, but the truth is, I’d like that more than anything tonight.” Kissing John, he slips off his shoes.

Before he can tug his shirt off, too, however, John stops him, and he takes a breath against the frustration and outright anger.

If John isn’t up for sex, fine, but- he just wants to be near John tonight, to go to sleep with the feeling of John beside him. They could even watch some of John’s idiotic action DVDs, and he’ll happily refrain from sarcastically pointing out how moronic they are.

“I was thinking we could try something different tonight.”

Letting the surprise fully overtake the frustration, he responds, “Sure, what do you have in mind?”

He watches as John’s shaky hands slowly remove shirt and pants, and even knowing the wrong reaction could cause permanent problems, his brain short-circuits again.

John’s never been a selfish lover. They’ve always been versatile when it comes to positions, and John’s never asked for anything he wasn’t willing to do back.

Yet, in all the years he’s known John, he’s never seen him fully naked with sex between them always being with John almost fully clothed. He’s gotten glimpses over the years, but walking into the containment room a few weeks ago was the most he’s ever seen.

He has no idea if he’d even like shower sex, but the realisation he’d never be able to know one way or another- thankfully, it’d come when he and John were on separate missions. By the time they’d met back up, he’d made peace with it.

Now, John is standing in front of him, and he hasn’t felt this afraid, awestruck, and nervous since he was a seventeen-year-old kid.

Taking a breath, he holds his hand out. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” John nods. “None of it hurts. Most of them aren’t even sensitive.”

His own fingers feel hypersensitive when they make contact with the scars, and he’s careful to avoid the implants. Logically, he knows fingers touching them is much safer than the sparring he’s done against John and likely isn’t much different than clothes touching them, but he absolutely can’t do anything to hurt or put John in danger during this.

“Got a thing for scars, third-degree burns, and cybernetic implants?"

“No. Just you.”

…

Addiction has always been a largely abstract concept to him. He can recognise the signs in people, and he has training on how to handle addicts.

If John had let this happen years ago, maybe, now, everything wouldn’t be pleasantly thrumming inside. There’s no worry, no fear, and aside from wishing desperately this had happened sooner, no thoughts of his past currently fill him with regret.

He has a mission next week, and he’s going to have to shove down thoughts of this and the feelings of want down deep in order to complete it.

Part of him wonders if this is addiction.

Closing his eyes, he focuses on the feel of John beside him.

…

Stretching, John sits up. “Something smells good.”

“Pumpkin pancakes. It’s a new recipe Romanov and Barton posted to the newsletter.”

He sees the exact second John remembers he’s naked, and sighing when John starts to pull the sheet up, he comes over. “Hey. Thank you for last night. Please, don’t let it be a one-time thing.”

Scoffing slightly, John lets the sheet fall back down.

Kissing him, he says, “I also got you a chai latte.”

John wraps a hand around his. “You sure this is what you want?”

“If I thought there was better, do you think I couldn’t get it for myself?”

Laughing, John kisses him. “Well, I’m not eating without my shirt.”

Getting up and taking a pair of underwear out of John’s chest, he tosses them over. “Out of curiosity, is shower sex a possibility?”

…

Tomorrow, he leaves for his mission, and John isn’t happy about some of the arrangements made for Buddy.

“I used to take him running every day when you were gone.”

Wishing he hadn’t forgotten his own toothpaste, he finishes brushing his teeth. “He doesn’t run, anymore.”

“I could still take him walking.”

Buddy looks between them with an annoyed expression. He’s inherited John’s love for flashy, simplistic action movies, and their discussion about him is clearly interfering with his enjoyment of sequel number 500 of whichever blockbuster franchise he and John decided on tonight.

Patting him, he crawls into bed. “Dr Leland needs the fresh air more than you do. Besides, she’s going to loan you some of her Pokemon DVDs for him.”

“Right. When you get back, we’ll watch something you don’t find eye-rollingly unrealistic.”

“It doesn’t bother me.” Scratching Buddy’s ear, he kisses John before pulling the covers up and lying down.

…

After his mission, he and John are having lunch with Coulson when Barton and Romanov come over.

“Agent Ward.” Romanov eyes him with a consideration he recognises as mildly dangerous territory. “Clint and I were just talking about Lynnie Nail. Do you know her?”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ve talked to Miss Nail a few times.”

Or more accurately, he’s listened as she babbled to Buddy about something he suspects even geniuses like Stark and Banner might have trouble understanding.

“She the one Buddy likes to follow around while she delivers mail,” John asks.

He nods.

“Tasha’s got the idea Lynnie going out with a nice agent might help her come out of her shell some.”

“What do you think, Agent Ward,” Romanov asks.

“I can point you in the direction of several single agents who might fit the bill, ma’am, but when it comes to me, I’m seeing someone.”

John finally stops his none-too-subtle silent laughing, and looking up, surprise coats his face. “I haven’t heard anything about this.”

“I fell in love when I was twenty, and you continually went on about how that person wasn’t good enough for me.”

As soon as the words are out, he realises, yes, this was a mistake, but he doesn’t care. If he had to, he’d lie under oath about there ever being anything sexual and/or romantic between him and John, but he’s done hiding who he is and how he feels.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that about-” John pauses.

“I don’t think I’m too good for her, but even if I weren’t seeing someone, I don’t think I’d be good for her, Agent Romanov. Her shyness and sensitivity, I do better with extroverts when it comes to such relationships.”

She nods. “I can see that. About these other agents?”

…

After lunch, Coulson pulls him aside. “Congratulations on your new relationship, Agent Ward. Do you need to fill out some forms?”

He’s never met Former Director Carter, but he’s always found it interesting, for someone who greatly closed the gender disparity in SHIELD, equality on the basis of sexual orientation, acceptance of trans employees, and a handling of what should and shouldn’t be done when it comes to the question of sex on missions didn’t start happening on a large-scale until then Deputy Director Fury started tackling such things.

He refuses to do honeypot missions, but he’s signed several forms saying he knows certain missions might require him to engage in sexual contact with a civilian and/or suspect and that he will engage in said contact if it’s necessary for the mission’s success or his own safety.

Agents who are in a monogamous relationship or simply don’t want to be put in a situation where they might need to engage in a sexual situation aren’t severely limited when it comes to missions. There are plenty where the risk of this being a danger are extremely low to nil.

However, given the choice, he’s never going to limit himself to such a degree.

“No, sir. Our relationship is open.”

He’s not surprised by the subtle look of disapproval in Coulson’s eyes.

Once, John had said, ‘Careful, kid. Phil’s a good guy and a skilled agent, but my working with him has always hinged on him not knowing certain things about me. He has attitudes that ain’t that acceptable to express anymore, and so, he doesn’t. Don’t take that as him lacking conviction those attitudes are right.’

“Okay. On a different note, is something wrong with your quarters? You’ve been spending a lot of nights in Agent Garrett’s recently.”

“Agent Garrett has a TV, and he likes to talk during movies. Buddy appreciates these facts, and his couch is comfortable enough.” He shrugs.

Uneasiness goes through him at the way Coulson looks around before moving a little closer. “Agent Ward, I appreciate your loyalty to and friendship with Agent Garrett, but he’s not a doctor. I don’t care how many medical labs he’s been in during his life or how many scientists and doctors he’s protected and dealt with, there are things he is not qualified to make assessments on. If-” Coulson pauses.

Realising where this is going, he relaxes. “Sir, if there’s anything going on with Agent Garrett’s health, and I don’t think there is, he’s been expertly hiding it from me. If I thought there were a problem, it’s not an exaggeration to say, if necessary, I’d knock him out and physically drag him to medical. I don’t ever want to spend six hours sitting on the floor near his comatose body again, and given the choice between him being angry and lashing out and me dealing with his death, I’d always choose the former.”

Coulson lets out a breath. “I just needed to make sure. Thank you, Agent Ward.”

…

After Coulson leaves, he starts to head to the gym, and John grabs him. “What was that about? With Romanov?”

“Me, not you,” he answers. “If she decides to play matchmaker with you, you can handle it however you see fit.”

“You sound doubtful of that happening.”

“Agent Romanov doesn’t tend to play matchmaker for her superior officers.”

“True,” John says. “But there are always exceptions.”

“Somehow, I doubt you’d be one of them.” He pats John’s arm. “I need to get to the gym.”

“See you later.”

…

Outside the base, Natasha Romanov sits down on a bench. “How are you doing?”

John Garrett glances over. “I can’t prove it, but it’s funny how the temperature in the containment room suddenly stopped being on the fritz right after you sent Grant with that disk.”

“Was Agent Ward too good for that person he fell in love with when he was twenty?”

He sighs. “Let’s cut the crap, Natasha.”

“Okay. We both know starvation isn’t limited to food. A person can be starved for touch, attention, even another person. It might not exactly be healthy, but personally, I’ve always maintained no truly healthy person ever ends up in an organisation like this. You have this neat little story in your head, John: Twenty-year-old former victim of abuse mistakes sex for love.”

“I know it changed somewhere along the way,” he says. “It doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have been more careful.”

“A person shouldn’t starve because of mistakes or choices they made. I was there that day you went down, John.”

“It seems like half of SHIELD was there,” he grumbles. “And what, you saw the true extent of Grant’s devotion, decided it was time to step in?”

“Hm.” A small smile tinged with sadness crosses her lips. “I saw that a long time ago. What I saw that day was a man, a good agent, starving.”

“Were all Widows so dramatic? He’s not-”

“True or false: You haven’t felt true safety in a long time, have you? Not until recently.”

He’s quiet.

“The calm and peace you feel when you touch him, you could get that elsewhere. Seeing your bare body wouldn’t change the opinion of anyone who deserves to be here. There’s a difference, though, between tolerance and true acceptance.”

He chuckles. “I’m never sure if you remind me of him or if he reminds me of you.”

“If I did anything, it was rip away the band-aid and take away the last of your excuses. Thank me or curse me, you still owe me those fifteen dollars in dimes.”

Standing, she leaves.

…

Grant’s doing paperwork when there’s a knock at his door.

Opening it, he greets, “Sir.”

John comes in. “I heard there was a problem with Buddy and a scientist earlier.”

From his place on the bed, Buddy snorts.

“Lynnie Nail and this admin. found a dying rat a few days ago. It either escaped from or was misplaced by the scientists. They smuggled it out of the base, and they’re refusing to give it back or even give information on which one has it. One of the scientists got a little too close to Lynnie when they were discussing this, and Buddy stepped in.”

“Good boy.” John pats Buddy’s head. “What are you going to do if people find out you like men?”

Sighing, he sits back down.

They haven’t talked about the exchange in the cafeteria, and he was hoping they could continue not acknowledging it indefinitely.

He almost says, ‘I don’t like men, I like you,’ but this isn’t completely true. When it comes to men besides John, he has a stronger attraction towards women, but John isn’t the only man he’s ever been attracted to.

“The same thing I’ve always done. Look, I never went through a sexuality crisis. Growing up, I had a few crushes, all on girls, but I knew they were never going to happen. I’d imagine them getting near my family or finding out what my family was like, and I’d try my best to avoid thinking about them and ignore their presence whenever possible.”

“Then, I met you, and you were the crazy bastard who broke me out of juvie, gave me a dog, and left me alone in the wilderness. So, sure, I was a horny teenager who had explicit thoughts about you.” He shrugs. “Given everything else, that was just another piece of the confusing, jumbled mess that was my life.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” John sits down.

“I didn’t know if it was just you or what. Eventually, through awkward, consensual experimentation, I figured out I liked men and women both and that I really liked you.”

“Good. I’m sincerely glad you figured out what you are and handled it so smoothly. The world’s different than when I started as an agent, but in some ways- What are you going to do if other people aren’t so matter-of-fact? If your status within the organisation is subtly or overtly threatened or diminished?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “That’s one of the things there’s no good in worrying about it. If it happens, I’ll deal with it then.”

“And what do you think about me keeping what I am secret?”

“What you’re asking, I don’t particularly think about it. John- as another agent, not as someone who sleeps with you, you’re one of the best I’ve ever met. I hate the fact there are idiots who’d never give you the credit and respect you deserve over something that shouldn’t be a big deal. If you had a sexuality crisis, I hate that you went through that. But otherwise, you’ve done what any good agent would do: You hide and conceal certain parts of yourself even from the organisation you serve in order to best protect our country and its citizens.”

John nods. “When was the last time you were with someone besides me?”

He tries to think. “Maybe that mission in China? No, the Serbia mission was after that. Serbia. Agent O’Quinn and I had some fun while we were stuck in that van waiting for the target to leave his mother’s.”

“That was three years ago.”

“Four.”

He’s a little leery of where this conversation might be headed. When he was in Serbia, it’d been over a year since he’d seen John in person. Then, after Serbia, they’d both ended up at this base. Now-

There’ve been times when he’s considered having sex with someone else, but in the end, he’s always acknowledged it’d be a mostly meaningless waste of time. No one’s ever going to be as good as John, and so, waiting for that is fairer than being with someone he’s going to end up comparing to John and find lacking.

“I was thinking of getting housing off-base.”

“That- what if you need medical assistance? You have a better chance of alerting someone and getting immediate, specialised help here.”

“Well, one possible solution is to have you there with me. I can still stay here when you’re on missions. What do you say? We could get a bigger bed, and maybe, Buddy will stop trying to push us both off with his stretching.”

“That won’t work,” he says, and it’s not often he says something he has dramatic thoughts of killing himself over, but this is one of those times. “Not your- I mean, it doesn’t matter how big a bed, Buddy is always going to make it clear he owns it and we’re just lucky he’s gracious enough to allow us to sleep on it. The other parts, though, I’m definitely open to talking about them.”

Thankfully, John looks more amused than anything. “I don’t need an answer right away. Nothing definite’s been decided on my end.”

He kisses John. “If you do decide you’d like us to be roommates, I’d love to go bed shopping with you.”

…

Buddy’s never mated, but he can appreciate it’s a pleasurable experience for those who can. What he doesn’t appreciate is the fact he’s sent away or locked out of his rooms when his humans decide to.

At least, when he’s let back in, they’re always extremely happy.

Jumping onto the new bed, he stretches out, and as he falls asleep, so do his wrapped-around-one-another humans.


End file.
